


we are rhythms of the world

by ggwynbleidd



Series: Dethentine's [4]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Dethentine's, Gift Fic, M/M, Preklok, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggwynbleidd/pseuds/ggwynbleidd
Summary: During the early days of Dethklok, the band sets out for a miniature tour. A few states, a college here and there, some bars. After a long night of driving Charles finds out that the there was an error with the rooms that he booked at one of the places the band stays at. There isn't enough beds for six.For the Dethentine's prompt "Sharing a Bed."
Relationships: Charles Foster Offdensen/Pickles the Drummer
Series: Dethentine's [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152359
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	we are rhythms of the world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeyMurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyMurphy/gifts).



The van was cramped. Uncomfortably so. Pickles wasn't sure if the one that Nathan was driving was any better, but this one sucked. Especially because the heat broke. Perfect for a nice drive up the East Coast to a few locations that were cold as fuck during a nice, frigid winter.

Murderface kept mumbling about having to huddle together for warmth before Pickles decided that, no, Murderface was going to go into the van with Nathan. Especially to make sure somebody with a license - which Skwisgaar, the other driving buddy for the second van, lacked - could help out whenever Nathan felt like he was about to pass out after long drives on the road.

So it was just Pickles, and Charles and...Toki. That new kid, who also didn't have a license, but that was fine. Toki had somehow pilfered Nathan's Gameboy and was playing something with the volume a little too loud, 16bit music playing tinny and too peppy from the bed in the back.

"You're supposed to be asleep," Charles chided from the driver's seat. He shot a look over at Pickles as he rolled down the window. "Do you have to?"

"I've not had a cigarette in...two hours, man, I'm dyin'," Pickles pouted as he reached for the pack that had been kept in one of the cupholders.

"I ams gonna be asleeps! Soons!" Toki added as he looked up from the back. "One more levels?"

"Are you in the middle of one right now?" Charles asked. Toki nodded, Charles caught it in the rearview mirror, and he clicked his tongue against his teeth. "When you're done with this level. Okay?"

"Okays!"

He was, what, twenty? And shouldn't have a bedtime? But he had also said some weird stuff, some offhand comments, about how he had been raised. Everyone was kind of delicate around him after that. Let him indulge himself a bit. So if Pickles could let the cold wind whip into the van, the kid could play his video game.

Or Nathan's video game. Whatever.

They finally made it to the motel. Nathan swiped his Gameboy back angrily until he realized that Toki had helped him get past a level, or something, Pickles didn't pay attention. Because he was currently at the front desk with Charles. A very red-faced, flustered, tired Charles who was arguing about the rooms that he had booked.

"Your fault for trying to book a room with a motel," Murderface said solemnly as they opened the door to the single room.

With two beds.

"Shut it, Murderface," Nathan said with a roll of his eyes.

Pickles sighed and rubbed his face. Skwisgaar and Nathan had teamed up for a bed pretty immediately, Toki and Murderface ending up in cots on the floor. Because Charles and Pickles claimed the second bed.

"Scooch over, chief," Pickles barely hid his yawn as he crawled into the bed.

The TV was running, almost too loud for their neighbors, and Nathan was already snoring. Skwisgaar had his chin on his chest he was so close to sleep, while Murderface and Toki whispered something about comics to each other on the floor.

"I'm scooched," Charles said back as he folded his glasses and set them on the bedside table.

Pickles snorted. The two of them lay there for a moment, his tired eyes barely focusing on the TV. It was some ad for something. Something to cut butter better. Better butter. Butter better?

God, he was tired.

He woke up to the feeling of someone shifting next to him. The TV was still on - a comedy special, someone that he couldn't place - and he heard a few tell-tale snores that were comforting in their familiarity. The apnea-induced honking of Murderface, the deep rumble of Nathan, the weird little stop in breath when Skwisgaar fell asleep at an odd angle.

One of the lights was still on - a lamp. Pickles turned his head and looked at the source and rubbed his eyes free from sleep. Charles was still awake and reading. He wasn't sure what he was reading - the title was hard to read in the dim light, and the cover was something that he didn't immediately recognize.

"You can't sleep?" Pickles asked with a grin. Charles jumped and inhaled, clapping the book shut in surprise. "Sorry, dude."

"You should be asleep. You have to drive in the morning," Charles said as if he wasn't trying to hide what he was reading. Pickles laughed and sat up against the headboard with a grin on his face. "Hey..."

"Hey," Pickles whispered back. He pushed at a few of the stray hairs that were hanging in Charles' face, and he smiled at the way that Charles' eyes lit up even in the dark. "Why can't you sleep?"

"Nerves," Charles held up what he had been looking at. A journal in Charles' neat cursive - _Tour Plans._ "I have a lot of things that I want for you guys and...well..."

"You'll do a good job," Pickles rested his head on his shoulder and wrapped his arm around him. "You always do a good job."

Charles huffed a quick laugh and cast a look at the other guys asleep in the room. And snuck a quick kiss on the top of Pickles' head. The two of them shared those little moments when they could. An on-again, off-again sort of thing that had been lasting...a long, long time now at this point.

Pickles didn't mind. Pickles didn't mind it at all. Charles took things slow and traditional in some aspects of his life. So he would wait and be slow and traditional. And professional. That was another worry of Charles'.

"You should sleep, too. You've got a big day ahead of you. I know you're gonna...just stay up all day, with me. When you could sleep in on that mattress in the back," Pickles mumbled softly and tried to pull Charles down further into the mattress. "It's okay, man. Just lie down."

"The mattress is uncomfortable," Charles said as he turned over onto his side.

"This one, or the one on the van?" asked Pickles.

"Yeah."

The two shared a conspiratorial giggle between themselves. Sometimes, trips and little mini-tours like these were like sleepovers. A person or two, maybe three, who couldn't go to sleep who kept each other up by sheer stubbornness. It was always more fun when it was Charles. He would get a little loopy easily without his "just so" sleep schedule no matter how hard he tried to keep up with the rest of them as they stayed up later and later. Pickles would try and keep up with him but he was too used to late parties and graveyard shifts during day jobs.

Charles reached a hand out for Pickles under the sheets. Their fingers laced, Charles bringing Pickles' hand up to his mouth, lips brushing against his knuckles in a kiss.

"You excited?" Pickles whispered nervously.

Charles nodded.

"Are you?" he asked. Pickles grinned and nodded with more enthusiasm than Charles. "Good."

"You work so hard for us, man," Pickles said as he rubbed his thumb over Charles' skin.

Charles tried to hide a yawn behind his hand and Pickles smiled. He was tired. It was obvious. They both were. So Pickles leaned forward, pressed a kiss against Charles' forehead and turned over on his other side to spare his numb arm.

An arm snaked around his chest in the dark, a warm hand placed on his chest to pull him closer, back to chest. Pickles closed his eyes and smiled as he heard a little inhale.

"You smellin' me, chief?"

"A little."

"Tried a new...wax, thing, for my dreads."

"I can tell."

Pickles was going to say something else. He was going to start explaining what the product was. But he couldn't even remember what it was, and how it worked, or what the name was or what was in it. And with Charles cuddled up against him...his brain shut off. It was easier to fall asleep to fall asleep with Charles.

Charles always helped him turn his brain off.


End file.
